"Thank you," said Kettle, with a cock of the head, "but I take presents
from no one. What bit of a living I get, your ladyship, I earn."

"I do not onderstand. But you are sailor. You have ship. You wish
cargo?"

Captain Kettle snapped his fingers ecstatically. "Now, ma'am, there
you've hit it. Cargo's what I do want. I'll have to tell you that
freights are up a good deal just now, and you'll have to pay for
accommodation, but my ship's a good one, and my firm's reliable, and
will see that you are dealt by honest at the other end."

"I do not onderstand."

"Of course you don't, your Majesty; of course you don't. Ladies like you
don't have to bother with the shipping trade. But just you give me a
line to the principal merchants in the town saying that you'd like me to
have a few tons of their stuff, and that'll do. I guess that what your
ladyship likes round here is usually done."

"You wish me write. I will write. Now we will wash hands, and there is
banquet."

And so it came to pass that, some twenty-four hours later, Captain
Kettle returned to the _Parakeet_ sun-scorched, and flushed with
success, and relieved the anxious Murray from his watch. The mate was
naturally curious to know what happened ashore.

"Let me get a glass of Christian beer to wash all their sticky
nastinesses from my neck, and I'll tell you," said Kettle, and he did
with fine detail and circumstance.

"Well, Wenlock's got his heiress anyway," said Murray, with a sigh, when
the tale was over. "I suppose we may as well get under way now, sir."

"Not much," said Kettle jubilantly. "Why, man, I've squeezed every ton
of cargo they have in the place, and stuck them for freights in a way
that would surprise you. Here's the tally: 270 bags of coffee, 700
packets of dates, 350 baskets of figs, and all for London. And, mark
you," said Kettle, hitting the table, "that or more'll be waiting for me
there every time I come, and no other skipper need apply."

"H'm," said the mate thoughtfully; "but will Wenlock be as civil and
limp next time you call, sir?"

Captain Kettle winked pleasantly, and put a fifty-pound note in his
lock-up drawer. "That's all right, my lad. No fear of Master Wenlock
getting his tail up. If you'd seen the good lady, his wife, you'd know
why. That's the man that went hunting an heiress, Mr. Murray; and by the
holy James he's got her, and no error."

CHAPTER IX

A MATTER OF JUSTICE

It was quite evident that the